No time to think
Two suitcases - one large, one small - and a back pack are all that I took from two and a half years in St. Petersburg. My departure was sudden, abrupt, and unexpected. Perhaps it’s better that way. I have known for a while that my time in St. Petersburg was coming to an end, but I had a plan, a schedule, and I thought it would make my transition easier. My life has been one long series of move after move, country after country. As a child I went to sixteen different elementary and junior high schools. People often ask if that was difficult. For me, it was normal, I had nothing else to compare it to. In fact, I honestly can’t imagine what it must be like to have lived in the same place for all of one’s childhood. But I digress, this tangential topic was meant to illustrate my nomadic lifestyle. It used to be easy, it was always fun to move to a new place. While it still is an adventure, and while I still love meeting new people, the older I get the harder it is to break with the past and say goodbye to yesterday’s new people. I have made some truly wonderful friends in St. Petersburg, people who I will miss very much. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to everyone, but there was enough time to meet one last time with those who had become closest.
From the beginning the plan was simple, but it met with changes almost instantaneously. I would receive my diploma at a ceremony on the 5th of July, and I would leave for Moscow the 10th. My visa is only good until the end of July, so I would spend three weeks in Moscow looking for a job, then return to Piter for a few days to say my final farewells. I would spend the first three weeks of August travelling around Crimea, in Ukraine, and the last part of the month I would spend in Moldova. Then I would go home briefly, it’s been about a year since I was last there. If I had found a job, I would apply for my visa then return to Russia. If there was no acceptable job, I would simply stay in America and look for a job in politics, either an organization or a politician.
The plan started changing as soon as I made it. I was supposed to leave the 10th for Moscow, but I couldn’t. My diploma still wasn’t available, and I was having problems getting my last paycheck from a place where I taught. I ended up leaving the 12th. Then I got the job offer for an immediate position in Alma-Aty. The G8 Summit was being held the weekend of the 15th in St. Petersburg, and they were going to completely close the city to incoming and outgoing traffic. In order to make my Tuesday plane to Kazakhstan, I had to get into the city before it closed, so that I could gather my things. I paid a lot more than I wanted, and got a ticket on the last train on Friday night, and a high-speed train Monday afternoon.
I had two days to shut down and say goodbye to my life in St. Petersburg. It wasn’t enough. I still have difficultly understanding that I’m not going back there again, at least not in any permanent capacity. Instead, this seems like some sort of business trip. In a month or two I’ll be back in my flat in Kupchino, using the marshrutka to get to town, same as always. One would assume that nomads, like me, enjoy change. I’m not sure this is correct. There are aspects of change that I love and thrive on. Other parts, however, I fear. I try not to think about the past, and how I can never return. When I do it’s almost too powerful a feeling, I get sucked into nostalgia.
This past week, however, I haven’t had much time to delve into myself and explore my thoughts on the matter. I’ve been working like a slave. The norm has been to work from 9am to at least 9pm, sometimes to midnight, and yesterday until 2am. I have not had a single day off since I landed. The company I’m working for has two rigs coming in, and there is an insane amount of work trying to get them set up and manned. As such, I need to bring this post to an end, and get to bed. I’ll explore more about change and permanency in a later post. Now, it’s off to bed!